The Duplicitous Debutante (Cotillion Ball Book 6)

by Becky Lower

  Topics for these popular novels included stories from the American frontier and the westward expansion. Railroads and gold mining were frequent topics, as were firefighting, the circus, science fiction, and sea stories. They were geared to an adult audience, but quickly became popular with the younger crowd.

  The first dime novel was written by a woman in 1839 in The Ladies’ Companion magazine and was republished years later in the style now typical of the dime novel—about four by six inches in size and 100 pages in length. And the cost was reflected in the name. It cost ten cents.

  There were several publishing houses in both Boston and New York that specialized in the production of these books, since the profit margin was so great. The dime novel reached its peak of popularity in the 1880s, and began its decline in the early 1900s.

  I have tried to stay true to the flavor of the dime novel in writing Rosemary’s final story about Harry Hawk. Some of the terminology used in the story has fallen out of the public lexicon today, but was widely used during this era.

  I’d also like to take this opportunity to thank Andy, the curator at the Museum of American Fencing in Shreveport, LA, for his invaluable advice on the history of fencing in America.

  More from This Author

  (From Blinded by Grace by Becky Lower)

  New York City, April 1858

  A pair of eyeglasses. Who would have guessed?

  Halwyn’s vision had never been this focused before. He tweaked his new spectacles to a more comfortable spot on the bridge of his nose as the current crop of debutantes prepared to make their grand entrance into the ballroom.

  His mother and father flanked him as all eyes turned to the staircase where each young lady would descend after the announcement of her name. Halwyn’s mother, Charlotte Fitzpatrick, pressed her hand into his back. Even though her touch was gentle, Halwyn did not mistake her meaning, especially when she reinforced it with her statement.

  “This is your year, Halwyn, to find a bride. Take your time perusing this year’s group of lovelies and let me know to which ones you want an introduction. I can arrange it.”

  “Mother, please. I have no intention of selecting a bride in this manner. I’m too busy for such foolishness. There is too much to do as is, what with the job at the bank and helping you and Father ride herd on the little ones.”

  His mother smiled, her eyes aglow as the ladies assembled at the top of the stairs, surrounded by their fathers, brothers, and assorted other young men. “You are twenty-seven, Halwyn, high time to be married and producing grandchildren for me to spoil.”

  “You have four already to spoil, with two more on the way this year. My contribution can wait.”

  His father tried to hide his grin, but was unsuccessful. “I’m giving you fair warning, Halwyn. Your mother has decided this will be your year to wed. So, it’s up to you to find a suitable mate, one who won’t bore your mother to death with every last detail of the wedding ceremony. If you don’t put forth an effort, believe me, your mother will for you.”

  Halwyn groaned and raked his hand through his hair. His thumb and forefinger brushed back the stray locks that always seemed to fall over his forehead.

  “Why do I feel that I’m about to be fed to the lions?”

  George slapped his son on his shoulder and laughed. “Because you are. It’s called courting. And here are this year’s entries into the marriage pool.” As a unit, the Fitzpatrick family turned to observe each lovely young lady, dressed in virginal white, as they were announced to the fawning masses below, took a curtsy, and then descended the staircase on the arms of their male escorts. Halwyn realized he was able, for the first time in all his years of attending the Cotillion, to actually see the women as they descended the stairs. He admitted each created a vision as they bowed to the audience and gracefully floated down the stairs, and was amazed at how much he had missed in years past simply because of faulty eyesight. The ladies were prettier, the ballroom was ablaze with candles, the gowns were lovely, and the gems around the ladies’ necks glimmered in the reflected glow of the candles. He had no problem adding rows of sums close up, but the other side of a crowded ballroom, or the ladies at the top of the staircase, had been a blur to him before.

  Despite his misgivings about his mother’s plans for him to wed this year, Halwyn was mildly excited about this evening. He had no sisters to attend to as part of the Cotillion for a change, so he was free to prowl the ballroom all evening. And despite what he told his mother and father, he was not opposed to finding someone with whom he could share calm evenings at his own home. It was high time he moved out of his parents’ house. His twin sister, Pepper, had been married for five years already. Perhaps his mother was right this time. He was falling behind in his life’s plan.

  But correcting the course of his life’s plan meant spending this spring and summer courting a woman. He grimaced at the thought. Such a waste of time. He didn’t want to go through the process of finding a respectable woman, wooing her, and all the tedious demands that came with a proper courtship until the pair could claim they were sufficiently familiar enough with each other to marry. Perhaps the Europeans had it right after all, with their arranged marriages. Take the guesswork out of it, and leave the choice of a suitable partner for his parents to figure out. All he’d have to do is show up at the church. And at the wedding night. Especially the wedding night. Yes, he could go along with such a plan.

  Why couldn’t marriage be approached in the same sensible manner business was? In business arrangements, he was comfortable. He was aware of what to expect with any transaction. Cause and effect. He had observed the goings-on with his sisters while on their roads to marriage, and the machinations of love puzzled and confounded him. If he had been any of his sisters, he would have given up long before he ever walked down the aisle. And when his brother Basil got married a year or so ago, he had spent nine months in agony before he and Temperance admitted their love for each other. It made for amusing reading in his letters home from St. Louis, but Halwyn could conjure up no pity for him. When things became too hard, in romance or in business, you gave up on your first approach and found a different solution. That was his philosophy, and he was not going to venture away from it.

  So, tonight, if he found a suitable partner—one who was serene, reserved, and enjoyed books, poetry, and the theatre—he might humor his parents and court the woman. But the moment it became difficult, or the woman began to make demands, Halwyn would be out the door, and out of her life. There were plenty of young ladies who were suitable. He certainly didn’t want to waste his time on one who was difficult.

  As he glanced around the ballroom following the announcement of the young debutantes, he had to admit things were more exciting this year. The ballroom at the hotel was still cavernous, but being able to see things through his new glasses that he had never been aware of before made the whole experience different. For instance, there were several rows of chairs across the room, where young ladies and their mothers were sitting. Was that Grace Wagner? He hadn’t seen her in years. He remembered her as a playmate to his younger twin sisters, but now she was all grown up, and had turned into a lovely young woman. Perhaps he should go say hello to her and to her mother. And to give his belated acknowledgment of Mr. Wagner’s death. He wove his way around to her side of the room as the orchestra began to tune their instruments.

  • • •

  Grace Wagner’s stomach was in a knot even before the beginning notes of the first waltz of the evening. She could almost taste the panic her body was experiencing. She had been introduced into society three years earlier, right before her father’s death. She was in mourning when her best friends found love, got married, and exited from the debutante ball scene. Her second season hadn’t been much better, since the year of mourning needed to be observed, and she entered the season late, after everyone was already paired up. All around her, romance blossomed each spring, as one by one, her friends were plucked from their unwed stat
es, and she sat on the sidelines.

  And here she was again, the proverbial wallflower, with probably the most at stake, and no potential partner in sight. Not even someone exhibiting a remote interest. She must make something happen this season, or she would spend the rest of her life a destitute woman. If her stepfather, Simon, had his way, her entire trust would fall into his hands following her birthday in July, and he would drink and gamble away all the money that her father meant for herself and her mother. Grace took a deep breath. She would not go down the road to poverty without a fight. So she had to find a partner this spring, or face the prospect of becoming a governess for someone else’s spoiled children. Or becoming a paid companion to one of these young debutantes being introduced this evening. Ye gads, anything but that.

  She spied Halwyn Fitzpatrick across the stately ballroom of the Metropolitan Hotel, with its myriad of candles casting sparkles of light on the assorted colorful gowns of the ladies. His mere presence in the same room caused her breathing to hitch. She’d been in love with him since she was thirteen and was introduced to him for the first time when he came home from college for the summer. He’d given her and his sisters each a handkerchief with the Yale insignia on it and, in exchange, she’d given him her heart. She had been in awe of him then, and she stuttered whenever he was in the same room. He must have thought her slow.

  But that was then, and this was now. She was no longer a silly young schoolgirl. She was a grown woman, and her reaction to him was ridiculous, having a physical response after all this time. He didn’t remember her at all. She’d been introduced into society the same year as Heather and Jasmine, descended the very same steps they had, yet Halwyn had acted as if he’d not seen her. He hadn’t spoken to her in years. Well, he was going to now.

  Grace rose from her seat and smoothed the skirt of her lilac gown. The dress was several years old, but she was still fond of its tiered skirt with bands of deep purple satin ribbon at the edge of each tier, and the beadwork of the bodice. Her mother gave her a sidelong glance as she lazily fanned herself.

  “And where do you think you’re going, dear? The waltz has already begun and you have no partner. Sit back down before you cause a scene.”

  This was the year, and Halwyn was her target. She would not sit quietly on the sidelines any longer.

  “No, Mother, I won’t sit. I’m tired of sitting. I want to dance. I suggest you go find your husband and do the same.”

  She took a deep breath, and began to walk toward Halwyn. It may be a presumptuous act on her part, but she had no more time to waste. She wove her way through the dancers and the onlookers, stopping to say hello when she passed an acquaintance so it wouldn’t seem as though she was making a mad dash in his direction. She’d just casually stroll around the room and run into him. Her plan was in place.

  When Grace finally made it to the side of the ballroom where Halwyn had been, he was no longer there. She scanned the room quickly, to see where he had gone. Now he was over on the side where she had just come from! Blast and damn! Should she return to her lowly chair and to her mother, or wait where she was in hopes he’d return? She chewed her lower lip and toyed with the pearls around her neck as she pondered what move to make next. This was turning into a silly parlor game of musical chairs.

  At that precise moment, they locked eyes across the room. She put the fingers of one hand to her stomach to stop its sudden fluttering. His smile flew across the room to her, evoking warmth and excitement in her at the same time. He gave her a small wave and began to walk with purpose toward her. She waited, quietly, admiring how his glasses made him even more handsome. Her eyes never left his face—so she was able to bear witness as his mother, Charlotte Fitzpatrick, came up to him with a blushing young lady in tow and grabbed Halwyn’s arm. They spoke for a few moments before Charlotte gently pushed the woman toward Halwyn, encouraging them to dance. He glanced across the room and found Grace again. However, all he could do was shrug his shoulders and smile once more before picking up the young lady’s hand and leading her in an awkward, uncomfortable dance.

  The opportunity was lost. Blast and damn!

  To purchase this ebook and learn more about the author, click here.

  For more books by Becky Lower, check out:

  The Reluctant Debutante

  Praise for The Reluctant Debutante:

  "This series is a breath of fresh air for a historical romance lover! I loved that the [mid-1800s America] setting for each books takes place in a different city and you can see how the approaching [Civil] war is causing havoc in so many ways. Ginger is very likable, and is a strong woman who knows what she wants." —Rachel, The Reading Café

  The Abolitionist’s Secret

  Praise for The Abolitionist’s Secret:

  "This book was my fav of the [cotillion ball] books … We really start to dig into what ignites the Civil War. At the beginning [Heather] is portrayed as somewhat of a timid creature, but when she is facing conflict, she rises up and kicks some serious booty. [David] is just lovable. --Rachel, The Reading Café

  “The cotillion ball is the impetus for the series, but these novels are not pieces of fluff; on the contrary, Ms. Lower tackles serious and fascinating subjects through the eyes of her heroes and heroines. … I highly recommend this novel to everyone who loves historical fiction and romance.” —Deborah Cordes, author

  Banking on Temperance

  The Tempestuous Debutante

  In the mood for more Crimson Romance?

  Check out One Last Letter by Pema Donyo at CrimsonRomance.com.